


Desperate Souls

by tjmystic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Homelessness, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjmystic/pseuds/tjmystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While working at the homeless shelter, Belle encounters an interesting father and son</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Souls

Desperate Souls (1/?)  
25 Days of Christmas Ficathon 

For: likehandlingroses

Rating: PG-13 for language 

Author’s Note: This is nothing but angst. Not exaggerating, I mean that this is just angst. And yes, the title is right, it will be a series of angst. To give you an idea of why, Rumple and Bae are homeless in this story. And, not only that, but it’s based on a story Robert told about when he and his own father were homeless when he was a kid. For those of you who have listened to his Walking with Giants interview for Johnny Walker, you know exactly how painful this is gonna be. Those who haven’t… well, you will soon. Sorry… (Of course, I might also be apologizing for how stupid this story is, because I’m very, very worried now that it sucks. So yes…)

 

Belle turned the dial on the last of the gas lamps in the hall, bathing the corner with a pale orangeish glow. The lights were rusted, and old, and made the place feel more like a Dickensian orphanage than a twenty-first century homeless shelter, but it was all they could afford with such little funding. And Dickensian or not, she wasn’t about to leave the lights off during the dark winter months. Not when there were children to cheer up being so close to Christmas.

With a sigh, she turned back to the other end of the hall and the dingy office that waited for her there. It was the fifth time she’d been left alone in charge of the place in two weeks, Mother Superior having taken off without waning and pulling all of her fellow nuns along with her. She couldn’t really blame Sister Astrid or Sister Tena, sad though she was not to have their company tonight; they were only following orders, and, after all, one of their vows was of obedience. That didn’t mean, however, that she couldn’t blame their Abbess. 

A chill wind shimmered down the corridor, making her shiver as she shut the door tight behind her back. It had gotten much colder over the last few days, the air full of snow and ice, and though the shelter was at least well-insulated, a few of the cracks on the ground floor still allowed the frost to creep in. Cold as it was, though, Belle couldn’t regret not having a coat (or jumper, or gloves, or scarf, for that matter) anymore. Not when she remembered the thankful faces of the people she’d given them to. Her last jacket had been given to a sweet little blonde girl with pigtails and two front teeth missing. Penny, she thought the child’s name was – she hadn’t really bothered to introduce herself to Belle, too excited by the prospect of petting the huge old cat, Rufus, they kept around to chase off mice. The memory made her smile, and the coolness of the room around her ceased to matter. The children, those with mothers and those without, had heat in their rooms at least, and Belle wouldn’t begrudge them for lacking the luxury herself. 

She shook her head with a grin, scattering the loose curls she hadn’t bothered to pin up today, and settled herself down on the couch near the bookcase. The one good thing about being left alone at night was that it gave her plenty of time to read, something she had little chance to do when she wasn’t in her own apartment. She’d barely opened the first page of the dusty novel, though, when someone tapped on the office window. 

Startled, she jerked her head up, expecting one of the people under her care or, if she was lucky, one of the nuns. She was surprised, then, to see the night custodian, Leroy, instead.

Tap, tap. “Hey, sister, open up!”

Curious, Belle set aside her book and went back to the door, nudging the heavy thing open with her foot. Leroy wasted no time in coming in, offering her only the briefest of smiles (more than he gave to anyone else but Sister Astrid) before his mouth fell to its normal grim line. Belle frowned in return.

“Something’s wrong,” she stated – it wasn’t a question that needed to be asked when her friend looked even tenser than usual. And sure enough, Leroy jerked his head “yes”.

“There’s a guy outside making a lot of noise,” he groused. “Should I call the cops?”

Her spine went rigid – there wasn’t much Leroy was scared or bothered by, so having him suggest police involvement couldn’t be good. “Why? Does he sound dangerous?”

“He sounds drunk. And that’s a lot coming from me, sister.” He shuffled, looking anxiously over his shoulder into the hall. “I’m worried he’s the kind of guy our people here get tangled up with.”

Belle’s eyes turned sympathetic, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Whether he didn’t feel the touch or was just pretending that he didn’t, she wasn’t sure, but he didn’t turn, eyes still focused on the corridor. Wry as it was, she couldn’t help but smile at him – grumpy as her friend acted, he cared for the nuns and the people under their protection immensely. 

She leaned back against the door, causing it to creak under its own weight. That, at least, drew Leroy’s attention, and, he turned to stare her in the eye. It took her a second to realize he was still waiting for an answer. 

She took a deep breath, and craned her head out of the room. “We won’t call the police,” she muttered. “Not just yet, anyway. Drunk or not, the man might need help, and the least we can do is tell him where he can find a place to stay for the night.” 

Leroy looked skeptical, but he nodded all the same, gesturing for her to exit before him. 

Back in the chill of the main building, Belle rubbed her arms and held herself tight, letting Leroy step ahead so she could follow him. He didn’t waste any time, either, marching quickly towards the back stairwell with only a few passing glances to make sure she was keeping up. And when she crossed the threshold of the steps and heard the first sound, she understood why. Whoever was making all the noise wasn’t just knocking on the door like she’d thought – it sounded like he was outright bashing himself into it. Each thump was interspersed with a series of muffled swears and other unintelligible shouting, the voice angry enough to make the meaning clear even if the words weren’t. She was surprised she hadn’t heard anything while she was making her rounds. 

“You sure you don’t want me to call?” Leroy asked over his shoulder, shooting a furtive glance her way before glaring back at the door in front of them. “I can have Sherriff Swan here in ten seconds flat.”

His words were met by another loud slam and a murmured “fuck” on the other side of the door. Belle’s eyebrows quirked upward, her mouth setting in a grim line, but still she shook her head “no”. 

With a low sigh, Leroy closed the gap between himself and the handle and pulled the creaking door open. 

The moment the hinges swung back, a dingy pile of a man fell into the room. He righted himself almost immediately, his bloodshot eyes set in a harsh glare as he did. Belle found herself staring at him as he leaned back into the cold, unable to keep from scrutinizing his form. She’d been expecting a hulking giant of a person what with all the noise, but the man in the doorway was one of the smallest she’d ever seen, only a few inches taller than herself and Leroy and much thinner besides. He wasn’t particularly young, either, his hair greying and his eyes lined with wrinkles. The stench of cheap liquor crept off him in waves, and that plus his wobbly legs seemed to prove Leroy’s theory that he was drunk. But despite his appearance, even the cane he leant against so heavily, something radiated about him, a heavy aura, that instantly set her on edge. 

Strange as the man was, though, he wasn’t what surprised her the most. What did was that he wasn’t alone – a small boy, probably not older than ten, stood at his side, shaking as he held onto the man’s cane. That action alone was enough to give her the idea that he was his son, and the similarity of their faces only confirmed it. But that only made the man seem worse in her eyes, for, though his son was all but begging for his attention, he didn’t make any motion at all to look down. As far as he was concerned, it seemed, his boy might as well be nonexistent. Thin as he was, bones almost visible through the skin in some place, she had to wonder if that ignorance persisted during mealtimes, too. 

“Well, look who’s finally here.”

She jumped, her eyes darting away from the young boy to the man beside him. She’d almost forgot he was there in her concern for the child. Now that he had her attention, though, he didn’t seem willing to give it up, all but preening as he draped himself against the doorframe. 

“Impeccable manners, dearie,” he sneered. “I was only waiting half an hour. And here I’d been expecting to wait two.”

Belle bristled. “Sorry for your wait, sir,” she answered tersely, keeping her voice at a steady volume lest she scare the boy any further. “What may I help you with?”

The man only snorted. “I thought the answer would be quite obvious. Or do you not know what sort of establishment you run?”

Leroy growled, but Belle’s hand was already there on his shoulder, keeping him from hitting the man like she was sure he wanted to. The little boy already looked terrified, and having a gruff-looking Leroy take on his father in a fist-fight wasn’t likely to help any. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but this shelter only accepts women and children. It says on the sign over your head. Now, if you need somewhere to stay, I’ll be more than happy to call a taxi to take you to the nearest one.”

He chuckled shortly under his breath. “I’m sure. And I suppose you’ll tell us there isn’t anything to drink here, either.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “We don’t offer alcohol here,” she said shrewdly.

“And I didnae fucking ask about alcohol, did I dearie?” he barked. “I said I wanted something to drink!”

“Hey!” Leroy broke her hold to point a beefy finger in the man’s face. “You don’t get to talk to her like that!”

In the blink of an eye, the other man’s cane swung high into the air, jabbing itself into Leroy’s throat and pushing him back against the wall. Both Belle and the little boy flinched as he sputtered, but the boy’s father hardly seemed to care, an odd glint in his eye as he pushed the rod tighter. Tears welled in Leroy’s eyes. 

Without realizing she’d made the decision to do so, Belle sprang forward and slapped the cane away, sending Leroy sputtering to the floor.

“Enough!” she shouted, advancing on the man outside. “I won’t tolerate violence. And I will call the cops if you don’t behave, I promise you.”

The man’s eyes twitched, darting rapidly from Leroy to her. She shivered under the intensity of his glare, the eerie curiosity with which he looked at her, but she didn’t retreat. She couldn’t tell if the boy or his father looked more surprised by that. 

“Now, I can tell your son is hungry,” she whispered. “I don’t mind getting him something while I call you a cab. But I won’t be giving anything to a drunk. Understood?”

His lips tightened, curling around what she was sure were bared teeth. Something dark flashed in his eyes. For a moment, she wondered if he might hit her. But then he straightened his back, eyes boring furiously into hers, and stepped away. 

“Fine. Fine, then,” he snarled. “You want to be responsible? Well, you go right ahead.”

Belle opened her mouth, ready to ask him what he was talking about, but before she could even make a noise, the man shoved his son over the step. His nose wrinkled as his boy fumbled, his eyes filling quickly with an expression halfway between hatred and disgust. 

“You wanted to take care of him? Well, now he’s yours,” he huffed. “Maybe I’ll finally be able to scrape a decent living without him tagging along.”

Her eyes went wide, mouth open in shock as the man turned and hobbled away. He staggered halfway down the steps, hand clutching desperately for his cane, but just as quickly he was off again, head down as he rounded the corner. He still didn’t bother to look at his son.

She felt frozen as she heard the clip of his cane slowly die away, and it had nothing to do with the temperature outside. A man had just forfeited his son on her doorstep out of spite. Spite. 

Her own father wasn’t a wonderful man. When she was a teenager, he’d pushed her at every single one of his business associates in hopes of getting her married off and out of the house, and he’d never been able to pay the rent or light bill on time. But, even with that, she could never have imagined him abandoning her like this. She couldn’t imagine any parent abandoning their child like this. 

A tap on her shoulder broke her from her reverie. Her hands burned, and she was bemused, when she looked down, to realize that she’d been biting her nails into her palms. She shook them loose, allowing some of the feeling to return to them, and turned around. Leroy didn’t give her a chance to ask what was wrong, only nodding glumly to the corner of the stairwell. 

Her eyes followed, and she felt her heart begin to break. The little boy hadn’t moved from the spot where his father had pushed him, staring brokenly out into the cold as he shuddered. Slivers of tears covered his cheeks, his hands not quick enough to catch them all, but his wet palms rubbed at them all the same. 

Belle took a deep breath, forcing her own emotions back, and knelt in front of him. He brushed at a few more stray tears, dropping his head so she wouldn’t see, and she pretended for his sake that she didn’t. 

“What’s your name?” she asked gently.

The boy sniffed. “Baelfire. Or Bae.”

“Bae.” She smiled at him, relieved when he didn’t turn from her again, and squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Bae. We’ll take good care of you here.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up, not quite a smile but more than she’d been hoping for. “You… you will?”

“Yes. And we’ll start by reporting your father to the police for neglect. That way you –”

“No!”

“No, you can’t!” he repeated. “You can’t call the cops! Not on my papa, please!”

Tears clouded her vision, but she bit them back. Mother Superior hadn’t warned her about things like this. And knowing about it from books and file reports wasn’t the same as seeing. 

“It’s alright, Bae,” she soothed. “I have to do what’s best for you. That’s my job.” 

Bae shook his head frantically, hair sticking to his tear-stained cheeks. “Please, you don’t understand! He was acting!”

Belle stopped short. “Acting?” she asked confusedly. “What do you mean ‘acting’?”

The boy blanched. He licked his lips nervously, eyes darting down the sidewalk outside, before returning to her. “He… he didn’t leave me,” he muttered carefully. “Not really. He does this, when I’m really hungry or when the weather gets bad. I’m not supposed to tell because he says you’ll have him arrested.” He lurched forward, not touching her but close enough that he could if he wanted to. 

“Please, ma’am, please don’t. He’ll be back in the morning. He always comes back. Just don’t call the cops.

She blinked, looking quickly at Leroy for help. He looked every bit as stunned as she did, though, and quite a bit more suspicious. She exhaled, and turned back to face him. 

“Bae, he… he might not have been in his right mind,” she said, concerned. “I could smell alcohol on him.”

He shook his head again, and she could see now where new tears were coming to replace the old. “He’s not drunk, I promise! He poured a whole bottle of vodka over his head and swished some in his mouth.” Bae blinked, but a few drops leaked out anyway. He didn’t bother to brush them away this time. “Please, please, I’m telling the truth. Don’t arrest my papa, please.”

Belle leaned back on her knees. This didn’t make any sense to her. The man she’d seen wouldn’t look at his son, had pushed him, bodily, into a stranger as if he were a sack of flour. He’d acted like a violent madman without any regard for the people around him. But as far as she could tell, Bae wasn’t lying to her – he was telling the truth. Or, at least, what he believed the truth to be. Either his father was a brilliant actor who’d fooled them into thinking he was cruel, or he was a brilliant actor who’d fooled his son into thinking he was kind. 

But there was a lot that she was missing, regardless of which it was. 

Her eyes didn’t wander from Bae’s as she patted down her pockets, checking that she still had her keys, mace, and cellphone on her. If she was going to hunt his father down, she wouldn’t do so empty-handed.

“Okay,” she murmured. “I’ll try to get everything worked out, Bae. And I won’t call the cops.” 

His shoulders visibly sagged, relief radiating off of him in waves. It hurt her, that a boy so young could feel so much weight, but she forced the thought to the back of her mind, allowing herself only a brief pat on his shoulder before standing to her feet.

“Leroy, could you take him to my office?” she asked. “Just until I get back.”

She felt his eyes bore warily into her skull, and, though she offered her friend a quick hug, she refused to look at his face. She’d made up her mind, and she wasn’t going to change it now. Not when there was a small boy who needed help and she was the only one there to offer any, clumsy though her attempts may be.

She spared Bae a final glance, hoping her expression was comforting instead of taut, and stepped outside. Steeling herself against the cold, she shut the front door behind her and wandered off in the direction the man had disappeared.


End file.
